Maggie sat back in her chair. “You didn’t. I enjoy sex and now I get paid for it. I’m glad you’re feeling capable because I’m getting really hungry.” She stood up, unzipped the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor and pool around her feet. She was wearing a tiny wisp of a strapless black bra, panties that were little more than a crotch panel and a few strings, a black garter belt, and stockings. “Interested in playing a bit?”
Barrett just stared as Maggie walked around to his side of the table and sat down on his lap. “I’d love to play with you,” she continued, “but only if you’re comfortable.”
With a groan, Barrett grabbed the back of her head and pulled her down. “I’m not a bit comfortable, but I will be soon.” He pressed his mouth against hers and kissed her, tangling his tongue with hers. As they kissed and he slanted his head for better contact, Maggie thought he was becoming surprisingly forceful and decisive. He completely controlled the kiss and eventually slipped his hands up her ribs to cup her bra-covered breasts. He pulled his head back and moaned, Take all this off.” As they stood, he said, “Leave the stockings and belt on. They are really hot.”
Quickly he dragged off his clothes as Maggie removed her underwear. He stripped the covers off the bed and they stretched out across it. “God, I never imagined the evening would end up like this,” he said. Maggie just smiled as he pressed his body against hers. She slid her hands up and down his back and flanks and finally touched his erection. He was hard and ready.
With her hands she urged him over her as she spread her legs. Although she wasn’t urgently hungry, she felt so good about being with Barrett that she knew she was wet and ready. As he supported his weight on one elbow, she took his other hand and together they reached between her legs and found the slippery center of her sex. “Touch me there,” she whispered. She guided his fingers to her clit and positioned his middle finger on her spot. “Here,” she purred. “Like this.” She moved his hand as she climbed toward her own orgasm. Quickly she dropped her hand as his fingers learned her needs. He quickly found other places that made her moan and undulate her hips. “I need you inside me.”
He thrust his penis into her hot, wet channel as he continued to rub her clit. Her breathing had speeded up and she knew that she was close to coming. “Feel it,” she moaned. “Hold still inside me and just feel.”
Following her instructions his body stilled, his cock lodged fully inside of her. As he kept rubbing she felt the pressure build, then explode. “Now, feel. Feel what it’s like for me to come with your hard cock inside me.” She felt the spasms of her orgasm grip his cock, contracting and squeezing him.
“Oh, God, Maggie,” he moaned as, without any additional movement, he spurted inside of her. He collapsed, his hands now softly stroking her arm. Panting, he said, “I’ve never felt anything like that. You came. I could feel you.”
“I know. I love coming like that, so I can feel every movement, too. It’s almost like I’m caressing you with my body.”
“You can’t fake that, can you.”
Maggie cupped his face and gazed into his eyes. “Not a chance. You did that for me.”
“You’re one hell of a woman, Maggie.”
Maggie returned to the present as Ellen said, from across the kitchen table, “That was something. It must have made him feel ten feet tall that you came. I would guess that women can’t fake that. You didn’t fake anything, did you?”
“Nope. It was a joint experience and we had promised complete honesty after all.” Maggie slumped back in her chair, almost as drained as she had been after sex. “I found in the years that followed that honesty in sex is probably the most important thing there is, even for a prostitute.”
“Didn’t you ever fake it or lie to make some customer feel good?”
Maggie sighed. “I guess I did, but somehow I don’t consider them lies, just ego boosters. In general, I told the truth to everyone, most importantly myself.”
“Telling yourself the truth is basic.”
Maggie leaned forward and grasped Ellen’s hands. “Have you been telling yourself the truth about Kevin?”
“I walked into that one, didn’t I? Maybe not. If I were to be completely honest I would admit that he intrigues me and I’m really curious about what might be. Anyway, I’m sure he’s only looking for a model. I’m probably building all this up in my mind.”
Maggie’s dark eyebrow arched again. “Maybe not.”
Ellen took a deep breath. “Maybe not.”
“So you’re going to pose for him?”
At that moment, Ellen knew. “I am, and the devil take the hindmost.”
Maggie’s laugh was warm. “Don’t let Lucy hear you say that.”
Ellen joined the laughter. “Right.”
Chapter
9
Later that morning Maggie noticed the new clock and the flowers sitting on an end table in a water glass. “You’ve moved in,” she said.
“I guess I have,” Ellen said with a small smile.
That afternoon they picked out a cut-glass vase and a small lamp for Ellen’s dresser. Maggie also insisted that Ellen buy three pillar candles with holders for the bedroom and a CD of dance music in case a date came back to her apartment. “Not likely,” Ellen had protested, but she made the purchases anyway.
Despite all her talk, Ellen changed her mind a dozen times. She couldn’t possibly. She certainly could. Why should she take the risk? Why not? She hadn’t gone to class on Wednesday, afraid to face Kevin, but lying in bed that night she tried to create the scene. What would it be like? Would he be tender, demanding, hesitant, forceful? Would he undress her or would she have to take off her clothes in that huge room? Would he be a good lover? She stopped herself, sure that if she built it all up in her mind she’d be disappointed with the reality. Afterward, she thought, when nothing happens I can dream about what might have been. All Thursday morning she thought about nothing but the afternoon’s modeling session.
At one o’clock she stood in her bedroom, the wispy underwear that Lucy had given her on the bed. Would it seem like an invitation? Would he misunderstand? Was it a misunderstanding? Damn. She picked up the lingerie and put it on. Then, before she could change her mind, covered it with a pair of well-washed jeans and a soft, wheat-colored flannel shirt. She added socks and loafers then reached for her navy windbreaker. Why not something new and more stylish? she asked herself. Because this outfit makes me feel more comfortable, she answered, and I need all the support I can get.
She walked out into the cold and windy New York fall afternoon and headed for The Templeton Gallery. By the time she had walked the few blocks, her cheeks were pink and her fingers chilled. As she opened the door, a small bell sounded and a nice-looking man who appeared to be a smaller version of Kevin bustled to the front, dressed in what she now assumed was the store uniform, casual, well-washed, black jeans and a soft cranberry shirt. “Good afternoon. May I be of assistance?”
This must be Kevin’s brother. “Hi. I’m here to see Kevin.”
“You must be Ellen. He’s upstairs. He’s been pacing all morning, afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“Really?”
He looked chagrined. “I’m probably not supposed to tell you but he’s really excited about painting you.” He closed his mouth with a snap. “In my brain and out my mouth.” He cupped her chin and turned her face left and right with small humming noises. “He’s right, you know. You’ve got great bones and there’s a wonderful quality about your expression.” He paused and, as she frowned, he dropped his hand. “I’m sorry to be so forward, but we’re really informal around here. I’m Kevin’s brother, Sean, and I play with clay. I’d love for you to pose for me sometime, too.”
Ellen looked down at her ordinary body. “Why me? I don’t get it. I’m nothing special, no supermodel or anything.”
“Supermodels have no appeal to true artists. We like women with substance.” He paused. “Oops, that didn’t come out the way I�
��d planned. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“For what?”
She saw that he was actually blushing. “I intimated that you’re not so slim.”
“Well, I’m not. Does that please an artist’s eye?”
“For Kev and me it does. We’ve studied in Europe where they don’t seem to have the incredible passion for bones and skin with nothing between. The old masters loved women with flesh on their bones. It’s warm, soft and,” he added as he took her hand, “sexy.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back.
“Oh,” Ellen said, not quite knowing whether he was making a pass at her. These brothers were quite a pair. “I think I’ll just go upstairs and see where Kevin is.”
“Right.” He dropped her hand and took a step backward. “I hope you’ll seriously consider posing for me sometime, too.”
“I’ll certainly think about it.” Ellen wondered how much time the brothers spent in that upstairs studio with lonely women who took art classes to while away idle time. Was that what she was doing? Ellen shook off the negative thoughts. Who cared why she was there, she just was.
She climbed to the upper floor where Kevin was working, his back to her. He was dressed in casual black pants and a shirt the color of new grass. To her surprise he was barefoot. The studio smelled of chemicals and paint and music played somewhere in the background. She recognized the work as Mozart, but had no idea of the name or number. She walked up behind Kevin and peered over his shoulder at the sketchbook propped on his easel. “That’s me!” she gasped.
Kevin jumped, placed his hand on his chest and let out a deep breath. “Phew, you startled me. When I get to working, I’m afraid I become a bit deaf so I didn’t hear you come in.” He took another breath. “It is you, sort of.”
Ellen stared. The naked woman on the pad definitely had her face, captured with a few quick strokes of Kevin’s pencil. The body, however, was classically lovely with soft curves and shadowed hollows. “Oh, I wish my body looked like that.”
“I hope you don’t mind my taking a bit of painter’s license. I have no real idea what your body looks like under all those clothes, so I just let my imagination wander.” He took her hands and bussed her cheek. “I’m so glad you decided to pose.”
“I’m not so sure you need me. I like the way I look on your page better than the real thing.” She realized that she had reflexively clutched her jacket tightly around her.
“You’re embarrassed,” Kevin said, “and I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to put you off.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Please tell me you forgive me.”
Ellen burst out laughing. He was so overly sincere that it became a bit saccharin. “You’re quite something,” she said, her lack of belief obvious.
Kevin joined her laughter. “Okay. Busted. My technique usually works. Please. Let me take your coat. Honestly, I didn’t intend to offend or embarrass.”
Honestly. Ellen heard Maggie’s words. Be honest with yourself. “Honestly I am a bit embarrassed. I’m not used to men thinking about me without clothes.” She pointed to the sketch. “I wish I looked like that.”
“I’m glad you look just like you do and I’m so happy that you decided to come here this afternoon. Are you willing to disrobe or shall we begin with your face?”
Ellen took a deep breath. “Let’s begin with the face and see how comfortable I can get with all this.”
For almost an hour Kevin sketched while they talked. From time to time he changed her position on the old-fashioned burgundy velvet sofa that he had pulled to the center of the room. Finally he walked to where she was sitting. “Are you tired? You’ve been holding still for quite a while.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re being wonderfully patient with me.” He stood, towering above her. “Could I unbutton a few of those buttons? I’d love to get an idea of your skin tone.” When she didn’t object, he reached down and slowly pushed three bone buttons through the buttonholes on the front of her shirt. His knuckles brushed her skin making her shiver. “Your skin is so warm,” he purred, parting the sides of her blouse.
Suddenly Ellen couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think at all. “You’ve got such beautiful, soft skin,” he said, stroking his index finger down her breastbone to the valley between her breasts. Then he walked back to his sketch pad and picked up his pencil. “You know what I’d like you to do when you’re comfortable?” His voice was soft and it was almost as if Ellen could feel it caress her.
“What?” she asked, breathless.
“I’d like you to finish unbuttoning your shirt and take it off. Would you do that for me?”
Almost without conscious thought, Ellen opened the lower buttons and pulled the shirt down her arms. The room was comfortably warm, yet she had goose bumps. How could she do this? Yet somehow she was and, trying to be honest with herself, she liked the way he was looking at her. She told herself that he was probably a total phoney, but right now he was concentrating on her, directing all his charisma at her like a searchlight. Did she mind? Not at all.
“You look as good as I thought you would and I love that sexy bit of lace you’ve got on.” He made a few quick lines on his paper, then said, “Would you go further?” He approached again and slid one finger under her bra strap. “How far would you go?” He pulled the strap down over her shoulder until the fabric slipped off her breast. Slowly, his finger stroking across her skin, he found the other strap and slipped it off. “So beautiful,” he putted. “I knew you’d be beautiful.”
His look said she was beautiful and that was enough for Ellen. She reached behind her and unfastened the bra and dropped it behind the sofa with surprisingly steady hands.
“Yes,” he said. He ran one finger down the curve of her breast. “So lovely. I wonder how you taste.” He knelt beside the sofa and flicked his tongue over her erect nipple. Then he licked the other, and blew on the wet skin until her breast swelled and the nipple contracted to an almost painful nub. “Yes. Like that. Like a Venus preparing to meet her lover.”
Some small part of her brain wondered how many women he had seduced on this sofa with exactly the same words, yet she didn’t care. This was her experience. He was just window dressing. She reclined on the slightly threadbare sofa, stripped to the waist and felt sexy and desirable and who cared why. She watched as he returned to his easel and, with an almost fevered intensity, slashed his pencil across the paper. Slowly she toed off her loafers and pulled off her socks.
She felt like another person, and loved it. She slowly got to her feet and, as he gazed heatedly at her, unfastened the waist of her jeans and lowered the zipper. Kevin dropped his charcoal on the ledge of his easel and just stared as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pulled the jeans over her hips and down her legs. Finally she stood wearing just the tiny panties. “You have fooled me entirely,” Kevin said.
“I have? How?”
“I thought you a tiny mouse but you are a chameleon, showing different faces to whomever looks at you.” He closed the distance between them, causing her to take a step backward. “Yes,” he purred. “You are at once timid and bold.” He held her chin between his index finger and thumb. “And for now you are mine.”
His lips closed over hers, his tongue invading, searching, taking. Ellen had never been kissed the way he was kissing her. It involved her entire body, not just her mouth, causing her knees to buckle, her nipples to tingle and molten heat to flow through her belly. She braced her hands against his chest and only his arms around her ribs kept her from collapsing. Then, in one quick move, he swept her up and lay her on the sofa. As she watched, he pulled off his clothes until he stood, gloriously naked.
He was gorgeous, his skin well tanned and covered with heavy, dark hair, his shoulders broad, his hips narrow. As she gazed at him, her eyes were drawn down through the whorls of hair on his chest and the narrow strip over his belly to the black nest of his rampant erection. He was huge and Ellen was sure that nothing that si
ze could ever enter her body. Yet his smile was confident as his gaze caressed her as hers caressed him. Carefully he removed her panties and pushed her legs apart until one foot rested on the floor, and one on the sofa back. Then he crouched between her knees. “You knew this was going to happen, just as I did. Tell me you want it as much as I do.”
Ellen took a deep breath. Honesty. “I do. I’m just a little scared. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Kevin combed his long fingers through her pubic hair. “I can take away all your fears.” His fingers found her, slipping over her already sopping flesh. Then he bent over and his mouth followed his fingers. “I love the taste of a woman’s body.” His tongue found every fold of her, licking and stroking everywhere she hungered. She threaded her fingers through his long hair and held on tightly, keeping his head between her legs. She was being driven higher and higher by his talented mouth.
Then he did two things that drove her over the edge. Almost simultaneously he filled her with two fingers and his mouth found her clit and sucked. She screamed as an orgasm slammed through her. She realized in some still-aware place, that it was the first time she had come without her own hands touching her body.
She felt him leave her momentarily and heard the telltale ripping of a condom package. Then he was back, his giant cock driving into her, filling her body, pushing her open, more aware of him than she had been of any man.
Again she felt the waves, the convulsions of her channel against his penis. “Yes, Ellen, oh yes.” Then he was incapable of speech as he bellowed and came inside of her. Yet even as his orgasm took him, he didn’t stop playing with her clit. His mouth moved to a turgid nipple and he bit down lightly. Again she felt an orgasm crash over her, spasms taking her, making her claw at Kevin’s shoulders.
Flesh For Fantasy Page 35
